Jeremy Thorpe – No relation
Sensational New Westminster Child Abuse Claims: Mrs. Thatcher’s Willie Ordered The Cover Up
Every Woman should have a Willie, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher once famously said. Maggie’s Willie was William Whitelaw, Home Secretary in her government and old Iron Knicker’s most loyal supporter.
Now Police are launching a probe into the most sensational claims yet to surface in the VIP child sex abuse ring scandal. It has been alleged that Whitelaw ordered police to scrap an inquiry into MPs involvement.
Detectives are beginning an investigation into claims that former Conservative Home Secretary ordered police to abandon an active investigation into the VIP paedophile ring alleged to have operated in Westminster from the 1980s.
Whitelaw allegedly ordered senior Metropolitan Police officers to scrap a year-long investigation into a paedophile ring that was suspected of abusing 40 children, the youngest of whom was six. Whitelaw’s alleged intervention, surely a prima facie case of perverting the course of justice, happened in 1980 after a newspaper report revealed crown prosecutors were looking at 350 possible sex abuse offences, including allegations it obtained young boys for politicians, prominent lawyers and film stars’.
The story, which was first published on July 7, 1980, that year in the London Evening News revealed police had put evidence in front of the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) against several, possibly as many as twelve men who could face trial for procuring boys for immoral purposes and for sexual offences against boys.
And while we are on the topic of senior politicians’ involvement in sex scandals can I just remind readers that former Liberal Leader, rent – boy user and dog killer Jeremy Thorpe is no relation. I have traced the family back eight generations and found that while he is one of those effete, dodgy, silk pajama wearing East Anglian Thorpes, our branch of the clan are solid, reliable Northern Thorpes (from south Durham and Westmorland originally). Nothing soft about us. We don’t wear silk pajamas, we wear the uncured skins of Woolly Mammoths we have strangled with our bare hands.